Master of Disguise
by Citizenjess
Summary: Forced participation in a youngling holiday celebration leads Anakin to concoct a peculiar revenge for his former Master. Written with D. Set during the Clone Wars; slight spoilers for episode 1x04.


Summary: Forced into attending a youngling holiday event by his Master, Anakin decides to teach Obi-Wan a lesson. Co-written with D, after a trip to the local costume store. Also, we weren't original enough to invent a Halloween-esque holiday for the Star Wars universe, and the .02 seconds spent searching for a pre-existing one on Wookieepedia did not turn up anything. Sorry? Rated PG.

* * *

**Master of Disguise

* * *

**

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin thought, was far too cheery, especially given the current topic of conversation. How could his former Master be so excited about something so... awful? "You're going to help with the Creche All Hallows' Eve party, Anakin, correct?" Obi-Wan was asking him as he puttered around the kitchen, preparing lunch for the two of them and Anakin's own apprentice.

"No," Anakin replied shortly, shoving a few slices of sandwich meat into his mouth. "I'm going to be at the Outlander. Ahsoka's going to help you."

Obi-Wan gave him the Look. "Anakin, having an apprentice does not give you the right to pass along responsibilities you do not want to have," he admonished, and Anakin sighed in exasperation.

"She wants to!" Anakin exclaimed, gesticulating wildly in the direction of Ahsoka, who was sitting on the sofa happily watching the Holonet. "She said so! She said," and here Anakin pitched his voice into a horrible impersonation of his apprentice, "'Sky Guy, I want you to have a good time at the Outlander. I love younglings!'"

"I didn't say any of that!" Ahsoka called. "Lying makes you sterile, Master!"

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Anakin, this isn't exactly a request," he said sternly. "Besides, you can always go to the Outlander afterwards."

Anakin furrowed his brow, wondering how Obi-Wan could be so dense. "No, I can't. It'll be too late."

"I know for a fact the Outlander's party doesn't start until midnight, and the Creche party ends two hours before that," Obi-Wan replied. "Plenty of time for you to get ready and be there in time to... whatever it is you're planning on doing".

Anakin huffed in indignation. It just wasn't fair! Why was Obi-Wan fighting him on this? "I don't want to," he said petulantly, pouting. His pitiful nekk-puppy face had always had a moderate degree of success when he was a Padawan. Maybe, just maybe ...

But Obi-Wan just shoved a sandwich under his nose. "Poor Anakin," he said, unsympathetically. "Make sure you're there by seven," he said, handing Ahsoka her own meal.

Anakin crossed his arms unhappily. "I'm not your apprentice anymore," he reminded Obi-Wan. "And this isn't a mission. You can't actually make me show up."

Obi-Wan's eyebrow quirked. "If it is a matter of forcing you," he said slowly, "Master Windu can get involved, I'm sure."

"That won't be necessary," Anakin replied automatically. Ahsoka snickered and he turned around to shoot her a glare.

Obi-Wan's grumpyness seemed to magically disappear. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed, bustling back to the tiny kitchen area. "This will be a night to remember," he said, beaming.

"Oh, you can count on it, Master," Anakin muttered darkly, under his breath.

"What was that?" Obi-Wan said suspiciously.

"Nothing."

* * *

"What are you going to dress up as for the Creche party, Sky Guy?" Ahsoka asked as she admired her own costume, an elaborate gown meant to mimic the garments worn by the Queen of Naboo. "And don't tell me you're going to go as a spice smuggler again - that was just you with an eyepatch and everyone knew it!"

Anakin rolled his eyes and flopped down on Ahsoka's bed. "Nothing," he replied. "I'm not dressing up. I'm going as myself. I'm saving my costume for the Outlander."

"Assless chaps do not a costume make, Master," Ahsoka informed him, and sat down beside him on the bed. "I'm sure you can think of something. I mean, you're a smart ... well, you're ... Anyway, I think you'll be able to come up with a decent costume."

Anakin shook his head, stretching back on the bed. "I just don't think I should be punished for whatever it is I did this time," he groused, and Ahsoka sighed. "I mean, it's bad enough that I got saddled with an apprentice as soon as my braid's cut off - no offense," he nodded at Ahsoka.

"None taken," Ahsoka said, rolling her eyes.

"But Obi-Wan knows I hate younglings. I didn't even think I was allowed in the Creche after what Olin and I did," Anakin continued.

"Olin?" Ahsoka squinted.

Anakin waved his hand. "This guy I used to bone. He's not even in the Order anymore."

"Oh, did he die?" Ahsoka's eyes welled up with sympathy.

"Nah, he just left because he was a douche bag," Anakin shrugged. Ahsoka made a mental note to ask Master Kenobi for the full story - she'd gotten used to Anakin's brusque mannerisms and unorthodox teachings well enough, but he tended to change or omit important details in his storytellings - not to mention, the Council reports - to suit him. "But as far as I remember, we're both still banned from the Creche," he continued.

Ahsoka lined up a pair of shiny, low-heeled shoes and slipped her feet into them. "Do I even want to know?" she asked, her voice nonetheless betraying morbid curiosity.

Anakin kicked a pillow off of her bed. Ahsoka replaced it with a frown. "It's not important," her Master said airily. He gave her a once-over. "That dress looks familiar," he noted aloud.

Ahsoka spun around once. "I already told you," she explained, "Senator Amidala let me borrow it for the All Hallows' Eve party. And the shoes," she said happily, clicking the heels together.

Anakin sat up. "I didn't know you and Senator Amidala were on clothes-borrowing terms," he said slowly.

Ahsoka shrugged. "After we blew up the Malevolence, she invited me for tea. She's really nice," the Togruta smiled. "I don't think the headpiece is going to work on me, though."

"Hmmm." Anakin's thoughts were momentarily turned to recent memories of Padme. He hadn't been able to get much time alone with her, but after the Malevolence ordeal, they'd certainly made time ...

"Master?" Ahsoka's voice was a mere annoyance as he thought about Padme, about her pert breasts and small, firm ass, about how she loved it when he took her, how she gasped out his name ... "MASTER!" Ahsoka screeched and Anakin moaned in irritation.

"What?" he snapped. "I'm kind of in the middle of something, here!"

"You're humping my pillow!" his apprentice exclaimed, aghast, and Anakin looked down to realize that yes, he had definitely let his imagination get away from him again. "This is exactly why I don't like it when you hang out here!"

Anakin threw the pillow at her, ignoring her disgusted noises of protest. "You love your Master," he informed her, standing. "Thanks for all the help you didn't give me."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Master. Sorry you can't go get drunk as early as you want to that day, I guess." She smoothed out the embroidered skirt and gave him a slight smile. "I really like this dress," she said.

Anakin couldn't help thinking it had looked much better as he'd torn it off his wife's body, but decided just before he informed Ahsoka of this fact that it wasn't exactly the kind of thing to share with one's Padawan. Was that a sign of burgeoning maturity? he wondered to himself.

"What are you going as?" Ahsoka pressed as he made his way to the door. She fiddled with some beading on the dress and snorted. "I seriously doubt anything you'd wear to the Outlander's Hallow's Eve party would be appropriate for the Creche," she admonished playfully.

Anakin's eyebrow quirked. "Since when does a nice little Togruta like you know so much about what people wear to the Outlander?"

"Since my Master is the biggest whore on Coruscant," Ahsoka bit back, not missing a beat.

Anakin puffed his chest in a show of bravado. "Now, now, Snips," he corrected, "Whores charge money."

"Oh," Ahsoka said with a smile. "Then my Master is biggest slut on Coruscant."

"Good girl," Anakin nodded. He opened the door. "I'll leave you to your ... shoes," he told her.

"And I'll leave you to your mooning over Senator Amidala," Ahsoka said sweetly. She squealed indignantly as Anakin used the Force to send the small fleet of stuffed toys on a nearby shelf at her head.

* * *

"I don't want to go," Anakin complained bitterly, slouching down on the sofa. Not his sofa, of course, since Obi-Wan was in their quarters and wouldn't want to hear about how much Anakin didn't want to attend any stupid little-kid party on the biggest party night of the year. It was Garen Muln's sofa, and it was stained with what Anakin thought looked suspiciously like bodily fluids. He didn't really care right now, though.

Garen shrugged and handed him a beer. "So don't go, piece of mujaberry pie," he replied. "Not like Oafy's going to drag you or anything."

Anakin pouted. "He threatened to get Master Windu involved," he informed Garen. "I don't know why he wants me there so badly. I'm not even allowed in the Creche anymore!" In fact, he was fairly certain the Life Day antics he'd performed with Ferus Olin had provided him with a lifetime ban.

Garen snorted into his own beer. "That was so classic," he said. "Maybe he's hoping you'll repeat the performance with him."

Raising an incredulous eyebrow, Anakin laughed. "I highly doubt that." He picked at the label on the bottle for a moment. "I still have the costume from that, though, I think ..."

Garen's nose crinkled. "Didn't it smell like youngling pee?"

Anakin blanched. "Good point." He drained half the can of beer in a couple of gulps. "I don't know why he has to torture me like this," he grumbled.

Garen snickered. "Latent revenge for saddling him with a Padawan?" he said jokingly.

"Probably," Anakin sniffed. He stared moodily into the hole at the top of the can. "He shouldn't get to play that card anymore, though," he continued. "I've got an apprentice I didn't really ask for now, too."

Garen burped eloquently. "Look, kid," he groused, "The solution is easier than you're making it."

Anakin eyed a spot on the sofa dubiously. "Yeah?" he said, half-heartedly.

"Yeah," Garen repeated. He took his time finishing off his drink while Anakin glared at him impatiently. "You make the experience so miserable for Oafy that he never asks you to do it again."

Anakin Force-floated another beer towards himself. "Obi-Wan would kill me."

Garen grinned. "At least you wouldn't have to do it again." He tipped the generic beer box over with his foot and frowned. "Hey! That was my last one!" he said, pointing accusingly at Anakin, who felt a sudden need to swig his drink as quickly as he could.

* * *

After leaving Garen's, Anakin decided to go costume shopping. As usual, Garen had given him an idea without even meaning to. He knew he wouldn't be able to get away with anything risque, and he knew that making Obi-Wan miserable couldn't involve copious amounts of alcohol ahead of time, at least not if he wanted to keep his man-bits where they were. But he could still come up with something, he knew.

Perusing the racks, he was astonished by the breadth of options open to anyone with fifty credits to spend. Nothing in particular caught his attention, though, until he reached the last rack.

There it was; it was perfect. Anakin almost whooped for joy when he saw it hanging there in all its glory. Just a mask, but the rest would be easy, and Obi-Wan would regret ever bringing up the stupid party in the first place. He snatched it up and paid quickly, asking the clerk to double-bag his treasure.

"What do you have there?" Obi-Wan asked when Anakin returned to the apartment. He sounded suspicious, but Anakin supposed he couldn't particularly blame the older man.

"Nothing. A dildo," Anakin replied quickly, hurrying towards his room before Obi-Wan could pry too much. No, this had to be a surprise.

* * *

Obi-Wan checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes. Where was Anakin, he wondered. Surrounded by screaming younglings, unsupervised save for a couple of Creche volunteers, Ahsoka and himself, he was sorely reminded why he'd called upon his former apprentice for assistance in the first place. He knew Anakin was particularly unfond of children, but having drawn the shortest straw at a recent Council meeting, Obi-Wan had decided that if he were stuck babysitting for part of the evening, then Anakin would be, too. Possibly the entreatment would have gone over more smoothly if he'd put it to his former Padawan in such terms, but Anakin had been a womp-fink the moment Obi-Wan had broached the topic, and he couldn't help but pull rank.

Ahsoka, momentarily tearing herself away from keeping a couple of toddler-aged younglings from throwing hard candies at one another, made her way across the room. "Where's Master Anakin?" she asked curiously. "I know he didn't want to come, but I don't think he'd just skip it altogether after the big argument you had with each other."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm sure he'll be here," he assured her, though he wasn't entirely certain himself. Surely Anakin wouldn't blow him off like this, especially given the threat of reprisals from Windu. Maybe he was just ... a variety of explanations for his former apprentice's tardiness circled around in his mind, none of which boded well at all. "He's probably just ..." Getting drunk, putting on a lewd costume, preparing a repeat performance of the Banthopie debacle ... He shook his head. "He'll be here," he repeated.

Ahsoka shrugged, then snapped her head up as though having sensed something in the Force. "No, Liam!" she shouted across the creche, "It's not potty time!" She scurried off to prevent a 'fresher-related disaster, leaving Obi-Wan once again alone to ponder the whereabouts of Anakin.

He didn't have to wait much longer. He was just about to take a group of younglings through the "haunted Temple" portion of the festivities when he heard giggles. A lot of child-like, amused giggles. He couldn't help turning to the source of the amusement and saw, to his horror and confusion, someone dressed ... as him. Specifically, in a mask designed to (sort of) resemble his face, and in robes that looked suspiciously like his own, on a frame far too tall to properly accommodate them.

"Anakin," he muttered, feeling very much as if he could do something violent. The source of excitement sauntered over to Obi-Wan, radiating smugness. Even though Obi-Wan couldn't see Anakin's face beyond the masks' eyeholes, he knew his former apprentice was smirking.

"I'm here, Master!" Anakin's voice was slightly muffled, but amused nonetheless. Unable to resist, he held out his arms: "How do you like my costume? There was a whole section at the shop for Clone Wars idolators, politicians and stuff. I think mine has a particular personal touch to it, though, wouldn't you say?" he continued brightly, extending a leg to confirm that, yes, he HAD stretched one of Obi-Wan's own outfits over his lanky frame.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms sourly. "You're a dick, Anakin," he hissed.

"Dick!" cried the little boy Ahsoka had been admonishing not to urinate on the floor, Liam something-or-other. He laughed and tugged on the real Obi-Wan's leggings with small, sticky hands. "Dick, dick!" Then Obi-Wan felt something warm running down his leg.

"Sorry, Master Kenobi!" Ahsoka cried, bustling through the crowd of children to apprehend her charge. She escorted Liam away, the little boy shouting his newly-acquired vocabulary term with unabashed glee.

"Master Skywalker came as Master Kenobi's clone!" a somewhat older youngling called out to some of his agemates, jogging past Obi-Wan. "But the real Master Kenobi is still scarier!"

Obi-Wan stared point-blank at his former apprentice. "Do not say a word, Anakin," he said crisply. "Not one word, Force help me."

Anakin held up his hands in a mock-peace offering. Mission: Accomplished.

* * *

Anakin couldn't have been happier with the way the night had gone. After teaching the younglings a new word, Obi-Wan had snapped that Anakin could just go to the kriffing Outlander if this was going to be his idea of "helping" with the Creche party. Anakin, of course, hadn't had to be told twice. So instead of helping his Master and Ahsoka wrangle sticky younglings, he was on the dance floor, still in his Obi-Wan costume, sans mask.

"Hey Skywalker!" Garen shouted to him from the bar, holding up a pair of shot glasses. Anakin excused himself from his current dance partner and sauntered over to the older Jedi. Garen downed both the shots just as Anakin reached him, but had two more to offer. "Nice work," Garen said with a laugh. "Couldn't have done better myself, really."

Anakin smirked. "He's not going to be asking me to do any Creche work again," he replied smugly, taking one of the shots. "You should have seen his face, Garen ..."

"Did it look anything like that?" Garen asked, pointing down the bar. Anakin followed Garen's line of sight and, to his surprise, saw Obi-Wan sitting at the far end, nursing a drink, a scowl on his face. "Because I wouldn't be surprised."

Anakin knocked back the second shot and patted Garen on the shoulder. "Be right back," he said and made his way over to Obi-Wan. "I thought you hated this place," he said, settling onto the stool beside Obi-Wan. "And I thought you were excited about the Creche-thing." Something told him he should feel bad about something, so he frowned slightly. "Sorry if I ruined it for you, I guess."

Obi-Wan shoved a drink in Anakin's direction. "Don't talk, Anakin," he said. "Just drink."


End file.
